Those Seven Confusing Weeks
by I Dont Know What Im Doing
Summary: An interlaced story of Sherlock and John's naughty fun while John tells the tale of how Sherlock pursued their relationship or as John calls it the 7 most confusing weeks of his life. Got a bit of everything, humor, smut, mild kink, relationship beginnings, established relationship, angst; Rated M for JohnLock
1. Introduction

**This story will include naughty slash fun, Sherlock seducing John in a very non seducing way, mind games that the two love to play, riding crop kinks, John losing his mind as his often does, romance _from John mostly _and more naughty bits; and somehow I'm going to put that all together so bare with me please.  
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><p>For months John had been trying to get Sherlock tell him what it was that made him decide to change their relationship from flat mates to lovers. It wasn't gradual, John knew that much. Something specific had happened that made Sherlock want to, as he so romantically put it once, engage in sexual activity with John, but he refused to say what it was.<p>

Asking, pleading, even begging didn't work. Sherlock wouldn't give up this secret. John understood it was just another of his partner's games, trying to see what John could come up with to make him tell. He had been trying to tease, taunt, and even withhold but Sherlock wasn't giving up that easy.

But after some recent events John figured out how to get Sherlock to tell him anything and everything he wanted to know.

Not too long ago they had discovered the joys of a new toy, the riding crop. Compared to Sherlock's arsenal of ways to get John worked up when he wasn't in the mood, John's list seemed relatively small but the one guarantee was the whip. Sherlock would sometimes get a little wild at just the idea of it. He loved what it did to himself and oh god did John love what it did to Sherlock, even more so after he explained what it really did.

John had decided to use this new toy as his leverage to get Sherlock to talk.

_Now now, not like that, he had something else in mind._

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><p>That particular morning John was sitting at the desk working on his laptop.<p>

Sherlock was in their bedroom, getting ready to go out. He was taking Mrs. Hudson to the bank to straighten out some misunderstanding. No matter how many times John asked, Sherlock refused to promise not to reduce the bank teller to tears for upsetting her.

Sherlock came out of their room, sat on the couch and started playing with his phone. He made no indication of seeing the riding crop, which happened to be lying next to John's laptop. The detective would have seen the thing as soon as he walked into the room but he showed no signs, just focusing on his phone. However John knew he understood the promise of a thrilling afternoon when he returned home. He would be looking forward to getting back to the flat as soon as possible.

But John didn't want him to be looking forward to his return home, he wanted Sherlock a little wild.

John continued to focus on his laptop not acknowledging that Sherlock had come in the room. Then, almost as if he were unconsciously stirring a cup of tea, he started running a finger over the handle of the riding crop.

His phone hummed alerting him to a text message.

_That's not very subtle_

"Who says I was trying to be?" Still keeping his eyes off his partner, he started dragging his finger nail down the handle.

_That wont work on me._

John didn't reply and began running his finger down the length of the whip.

_Still not working_

He continued to run his finger down to the tip of the riding crop.

_I have to leave in 2 mins_

"Yes, I know." His fingers pinched at the end. Without looking up he spread his lips into a mischievous grin.

_dont you dare  
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But John dared. Having learned from the best, he closed his eyes and let out heavy breath.

He heard Sherlock shift on the couch, no new text appeared.

Then the finishing touch. Closing his eyes tighter he wordlessly called out 'oh god...harder', bit down on his lower lip and flinched from the phantom strike.

A low growl filled the room.

He then looked back at his laptop like nothing had happened and said "Mrs. Hudson is probably waiting for you."

He couldn't look up, he would have started laughing, but he heard Sherlock say some very ungentlemenlike words under his breathe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock get up with a small effort, take a little too long to put on his coat and attempt to adjust himself; then he stormed out without saying a word.

A few seconds later he received one last text.

_YOU WILL REGRET THAT!_

And there was wild.

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><p>He had come up with the perfect hiding spot last night. Sherlock can read just about everything on his face now, but he wouldn't read this. He figured he had about a month before Sherlock found the whip on his own.<p>

Less than an hour later Sherlock returned home, loudly making his intentions clear as he barreled up the stairs. John didn't get a chance to even say hello when Sherlock pulled him into the bedroom.

They got a little frisky, got a little undressed, then Sherlock darted out of the room to get his favorite toy. After an agonizing minute while John tried not to giggle, Sherlock returned. His expression a mixture of deadly and amused.

"John, where did you put it?"

Using another trick he had learned from the detective. John looked completely innocent, the 'I have no idea what you're referring to' look and gave his best Sherlock impression,"Hmm?"

Sherlock seemed to know immediately then that John was playing at something devious. His lips drew into an insidious grin making it clear he would play along and that he would indeed make John regret this. He jumped back into bed and proceed to show John just how much it didn't bother him that John had hid the riding crop.

It took two days for him to finally mention it. Three more days for him to beg John to stop this game. And two more days for him to agree to tell John what it was that changed things in Sherlock's mind about their relationship, which of course had led to the seven most confusing weeks of John's life.

And it was simply, John had forgotten to do his laundry.


	2. Chapter 2

"Forgetting to do my laundry? Really, that's all it took?"

"You looked good wearing just a towel." John felt Sherlock's tongue trail down his neck, giving him chills.

Sherlock had explained to him, on that certain morning months ago, he had been leaning against the wall waiting for John to exit the bathroom. John had come out with just a towel around his waist. Sherlock said he saw it as a good opportunity to do some additional observations on John as that had become his favorite past time. As John was walked back to his room Sherlock looked him over thoroughly. His observations netted two immediate results. One, that John had forgotten to do his laundry and so had only a towel to cover himself instead of his normal robe. And two, he had found himself unexpectedly aroused at the sight of his mostly naked flat mate.

As Sherlock gave the details, they were in bed with Sherlock nuzzled up behind John, planting wet kisses along his neck.

"And why avoid telling me this for so long?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock moved closer against his back.

"More fun to make me work for it?" John ran his fingers along Sherlock's arm which was draped across his bare chest.

"Of course."

John wanted to call him a smart ass.

Sherlock gave him a small bite on the neck. "You know you love it."

He almost started to laugh, but Sherlock was going to have none of that, no giggle fits were going to be permitted. He bit John's neck again a little harder making his intentions clear. John dug his nails into Sherlock's arm and sucked in a breath.

Fine no laughing, but he wasn't ready to drop this line of questioning just yet. Loosening his grip on Sherlock's arm he went back to lightly stroking his soft skin. "Ok, after the towel thing, what happened?"

Sherlock wasn't giving up that easy either. Small, delicate kisses were going up to the nape of his neck. "I re-examined our relationship."

John slid his leg back to press into his partner's thigh. "And your conclusion?"

The hand on his chest started caressing down to the waistband of his pants, causing him to shudder from the sensation.

"That should be obvious." Sherlock started running his tongue from the back of John's neck to his jaw. Fingers teasing his waistline, the tongue licking at his skin and the heat of that stunning body pressed so close had him inflamed head to toe.

John started to speak but got a little distracted. That wet tongue had paused from sliding along his jawline and Sherlock purred, "mmm you taste nice," sending a shiver down his spine.

Finding his voice he tried again. "So just like that you decided you wanted to..um seduce me?"

Sherlock hand's pressed hard into John's stomach and he pushed groin into his arse. John groaned.

Murmuring into his ear again, "Not 'just like that', it took approximately four minutes."

If he hadn't been so aroused he definitely would have called Sherlock a smart ass and of course that thought got him sharper bite.

Again he started to speak and couldn't. Sherlock started grinding his pelvis against him and let out a needy moan. John was having trouble concentrating. He could feel his partner's hard erection under the soft material of his pajama bottoms, thrusting into John's arse. His seemed very intent on getting John to end the questions and focus on more urgent matters. It was close to working.

So he quickly said blurt out. "And then you came up with that cruel game?" It might have come out a little harsh.

Sherlock moved away and pulled John so that his back was flat on the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling his legs. Leaning down, his face inches from John's; he placed his hands on John's cheeks. Then he smiled so sincerely it near made John's heart stop. "It wasn't a game."

And John had no more questions.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him, their lips parted and the kiss became demanding. The faint moans issuing from Sherlock were enough to end all thoughts of talking. When their lips parted Sherlock leaned back up gave him another smile, thanking John for finally shutting the hell up.

Sherlock bit lightly on John's bottom lip then snaked his body down, tongue and teeth savoring his skin. Fingers started sliding under his waistband again. When that mouth reach his nipple it playfully licked and then sharp bite.

"Oh..god" He gripped hard into Sherlock hair, causing him to groan.

Sherlock slid down further continued to run his tongue down to his waistband; John was writhing at the anticipation of those lips and tongue.

Those dexterous fingers hooked into his boxers and slid them off and Sherlock returned to giving him bites to his hip and John gripped harder into his scalp.

Then Sherlock licked down so very close to John's cock that he started pushing his hips up, pleading for that luscious mouth to take him in.

Sherlock paused, tilting his head to look up. He was breathing heavy but was able to pull his lips up just enough to appear fiendish and said "Do you want me to make you regret what you did now or later?"

Looking back John can laugh at how absolutely mischievous his partner can be, but right then all he could do was holler "Oh...Hell... Sherlock...later. Please...later." His nails were fiercely digging into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock dipped his head back down and ran his tongue across the tip of John's cock.

"Ahhh...god…Sherlock."

His nails scraped into Sherlock's scalp and he groaned from the pain and sudden took John deep into his mouth. John's body contorted from the intense shock of being taken into that amazing mouth so rapidly.

Sherlock sucked hard on his cock then slowly slid him out, teeth grazing his across flesh. He ran his tongue over every part of John's erection. Oh hell, he is going to kill me, Sherlock was going to bring him the breaking point and back. And he did, taking John's cock deep into his mouth, sucking hard until John was about to come, releasing him to lick and nibble, again and again until John felt like he was going to pass out from breathing so fast for so long. Hips canting up each time that month was gone, his whole body craving its return.

But Sherlock continued on and on until John started crying out, "Please...please Sherlock."

When he saw Sherlock slide his hand to his own erection under his pajamas and start stroking himself, John almost wept with relief. His other hand reached around the base of John cock.

He took John deep in again and this time didn't tease. He was started humming around John's cock while stroking himself faster. John release his grip from Sherlock's hair and latched his hands onto the bar of the headboard, his back arched and thrust himself into Sherlock's mouth. His partner let him thrust as deep as he could into his mouth and groaned.

He felt the rush of his orgasm and his body convulsed. "Oh..god..oh..god..."

Sherlock moaned loudly as he came. He felt delirious as his orgasm raged through him having been building for so long.

As it subsided his was body still shaking. Sherlock released his spent member and put his head on John's hip as he jerked himself to climax. And instead of calling out or moaning when he came, he bit sharply into John's hip. A not so subtle reminder that he wasn't about to forget that game with the whip.

"Fuck...oh god…" John writhed at the pain.

Sherlock collapsed his head back onto John's hip. He could feel Sherlock's body still trembling as his orgasm diminished.

John released his aching fingers from his grip on the headboard and ran them through his hair. Sherlock placed some delicate kisses on the sore area of his hip.

And ever so quietly his insatiable love said "Now tell me where you hid it."


	3. Weeks 1 & 2

**This chapter jumps around a little, giving some details of the first couple of those seven weeks in Sherlock and John's past, plus a little bit of them currently. This one was kind of hard to write because it was difficult to find a way to make it interesting and not just a list of weird things Sherlock did. So if it seems a bit dry or boring sorry. I really wanted to get it finished to start on the next chapter because that should be much more enjoyable to write and will be full-on kinky slash fun.  
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><p><strong>Week One<strong>

Sherlock was acting strange. After living with him all these months for John to think his behavior was strange made it all the more disconcerting.

Sherlock normally just ignored him unless he needed or wanted something. And when he did pay him mind it was usually just to prove a point. He was always focusing his thoughts on something _important_. They did have small conversations and some laughs but that's just the way his flat mate was so John never took it at as insult.

So when the excessive observations and random comments started John became…well confused.

.. ..

The first day began with John sitting in the recliner reading while Sherlock was on the couch staring at him. After thirty minutes John finally asked, "OK Sherlock, why are you watching me read?"

"Hmm?"

"You heard me."

Sherlock gave him an odd smile. "That's the fourth book by the same author that you've read since we met."

"Okay? But that doesn't answer my question."

When he got no reply he tried to ignore him and went back to reading. He only lasted fifteen minutes.

"Seriously Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Another giant smile. "You chew your lip when you read."

He knew what this was, the detective was bored. With a sigh he groused, "If you need something to do why don't you finish up the experiment that's taking up most the kitchen table."

A strange look came over his flat mate's face, as if he was surprised at John's remark. Without another word he got up and walked to the kitchen.

.. ..

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you delete your old emails?"

John looked up and he saw that instead of working on the experiment Sherlock had his laptop open on the kitchen table.

"What? Why are you looking at my emails?

"Don't worry I'm not reading them. Just curious as to why you don't delete them." And again with the smiling.

"I don't know…wait how do you know I haven't. The deleted ones would be deleted."

Not waiting for an explanation he stormed into the kitchen and snatched his laptop back see what else Sherlock had been doing on his computer.

.. ..

"John."

"What Sherlock?" His flat mate had gone back to staring at him again.

"You switched to a new brand of shampoo."

"Oh my god Sherlock. You really need a new case, don't you?'

"I..." Without finishing he pulled out his phone and starting typing. John waited to see if his bored flat mate was going to speak again but gave up after a minute and went back to his book.

.. ..

Though trying not to look, he could see Sherlock was still watching him. John ignored him until he spoke again.

"John."

"Yes Sherlock?"

"You wear that jumper seven percent more than the other ones you own." He was grinning as if pleased with himself.

"Ok then." John got up and grabbed his coat. "I'm going to the market. Find something else to do while I'm gone please."

.. ..

But it went on for three more days, non-stop. Sherlock watching him constantly and throwing out random observations. John was at his limit, he couldn't figure out what game Sherlock was playing.

And it only ended with the culmination of this exchange...

"John?"

"What!" He snapped back.

"Do you know you snore?"

"What the bloody hell! Are you watching me sleep now?"

Again with that damn smile. "Of course not, I can hear you from my room."

...and John asking him to kindly stop. "God Damn It, Sherlock! You need to cut this shit out!"

The smile dropped and Sherlock looked troubled. Not saying another thing he got up and went to his room, slamming the door.

And Sherlock didn't come out for two days, at least not when John was home or awake. He would have apologized for being rude but the man had pushed him to his breaking point and now he was acting like a pouting child.

Eventually when he reemerged, he was back to the old Sherlock; ignoring John, working on his experiment, reading science journals. No more weird comments, no excessive staring.

After four days of feeling like he was under Sherlock's microscope and two days of fuming in his room, this return to normal didn't put John at ease. He couldn't stop thinking about what all of that had been for.

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><p><strong>Present<strong>

"Now tell me where you hid it."

John had begged for a break before saying where the riding crop was hidden. He knew he was going to need it. He might have the libido of a teenager but his body had decided to keep getting old.

Getting his small break, they had moved to the kitchen to grab a quick lunch, which meant John was eating and Sherlock just watched him. John absolutely loved when he did that.

"Why didn't you just tell me you got all hot and bothered when you saw me in that towel? Why go through all that trouble?"

Sherlock smiled and rolled his eyes. "We both know how well that would have worked."

"I think I would have handled it fine."

"Sure you would have, John "I'm not gay" Watson."

"You're an arse."

And to change the subject no doubt, Sherlock's eyes got a little fiery. "Enough stalling. Tell me where it is."

"Honestly, you're going to be the death of me." But that look was enough, it hinted to the full on wild Sherlock would be displaying soon. Lunch was over.

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><p><strong>Week Two<strong>

After only a few days of a normal Sherlock the strangeness returned. Instead of the staring and comments, things became even more bizarre.

.. ..

It started while John was getting ready to leave for work. Sherlock was reading on the couch. It was perfectly normal, until he noticed _what_ Sherlock was reading.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?"

"That's my book. Why are you reading my book? Why? It's fiction. Um, useless information."

Without looking up he replied, "I wanted to see why you like this author so much"

Oh no, not this shit again. Sighing, he got his coat and said on his way out, "Seriously call Lestrade and find some dull case to keep you occupied."

.. ..

Patients were not the distraction he thought they would be. He couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. What was he playing at? Was John the subject of some weird experiment? Or was the detective really just bored waiting for a new case? He would have thought he was being paranoid but he knew enough about Sherlock to know he didn't waste his time thinking about things that don't matter.

And his non-stop thoughts about his flat mate were interrupted when Sherlock showed up with lunch. Nope, not paranoid at all, something was definitely going on.

John decided that he wasn't going to play along in whatever experiment Sherlock was doing, not that he would get any sensible answer anyways. So instead of asking why he was there John just had lunch with him.

Returning home that evening, Sherlock was on the couch watching the telly. That's not an odd thing for him to do but when John tried to head to his room, odd appeared again when Sherlock asked him to watch with him. John begged off saying he was tired and went to his room instead, the day had already been weird enough.

.. ..

The next day was more of the same strangeness. Sherlock must have gone out the night before or very early and went shopping, buying most of John's favorite foods. There was nothing he could even think to say, it was just too bizarre. Sherlock rarely went shopping for his own food let alone for him. More baffling was that Sherlock even knew what his favorite foods were. Leaving the kitchen without a word, while Sherlock 'observed' him, John went to work early.

And when Sherlock again showed up for lunch, John held his tongue. Sherlock was trying to get some kind of reaction out of him and he wasn't going to play along.

That evening when Sherlock asked him to watch telly with him, John again begged off and went to his room.

.. ..

The third day started out normal, no weird behavior, nothing out of the ordinary. He went to work hoping for a peaceful day and that's when the texts started.

_What are you doing? Tell me about your last patient. Mrs. Hudson is baking. Why do you like Pot Noodles so much? Where do you want to meet for lunch?_ Forty in all.

John started wondering if Sherlock had lost his mind. That night when he got home he agreed to watch telly with him but didn't watch any of it, he just watched Sherlock instead.

.. ..

Now it was just the texts for 2 more days, and he again found himself at his limit. He politely asked Sherlock to explain himself. And as it didn't come out as politely as he intended Sherlock locked himself in his room again, but only until the next morning.

But he didn't reemerge as normal Sherlock. He was at the kitchen table _not_ watching John make breakfast, but also not focusing on the experiment in front of him. When John said good morning Sherlock didn't reply, never making eye contact, his face expressionless.

Not getting any text that day he felt a little guilty. Maybe, just maybe Sherlock wasn't playing with him. And after spending most of his day thinking about his flat mate, confused didn't seem like a strong enough word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Present  
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><p>"Enough stalling."<p>

John finally relented and gave up the location of their toy.

But only doing so with a simple nod toward the fridge, more pointedly to the large stack of books that was placed next to the fridge. Sherlock glanced over and then started laughing.

It was a rather silly place to stash the thing but it had worked. The day before he had hidden the riding crop he had made a discovery in the kitchen. Apparently Sherlock had somehow put a large hole in the wall next to the fridge and had not-so brilliantly tried to cover it up by putting a stack of books in front of it. John suspected some kind of small explosion was the reason his detective tried to cover it up, since he had banned Sherlock from ever using explosives in the flat after that whole 'animal-blood bomb' incident. Instead of going into a rage, he got that clever idea of a hiding spot, putting the riding crop in the cavity between the walls. Sherlock wouldn't have thought to look there because surely if John had found the damage he would have heard the swearing no matter where he was in London.

Still laughing, Sherlock got up and pushed the books aside. Reaching his hand in the rather large hole in the wall he pulled out the riding crop. When he turned back, the laugh quickly faded and was replaced with an impressed grin.

His partner walked over to John, sliding down to sit on his lap. Wrapping his arms around Sherlock, one supporting his back, the other caressing into his hair, John pulled him closer for a kiss. As his lover started rolling his hips, issuing small moans, their kiss became feverish.

Sherlock abruptly ended the kiss and leaned back, letting John's arms support him. Canting into John, he was breathing louder with each thrust. John moved his mouth to Sherlock's exposed neck and started giving sharp bites. He knew they would leave marks but he was driven by the sounds Sherlock was making and the force of their bodies grinding together.

Just as John started to imagine pushing his partner to the floor and taking him right there, Sherlock pulled out of John's arms and stood. Taking his hands, Sherlock urged him up. He gave John another kiss that quickly turned desperate. It was a slow progression from the kitchen to their bed, as John kept grabbing Sherlock for more of those needy kisses and Sherlock was undressing him. With the whip in one hand he was not getting the buttons undone fast enough. They both heard fabric tear as John's nightshirt was pulled open.

When they got to bedroom and Sherlock walked John backward to the bed. With a light push, John fell back into the the bed. John removed the rest of his clothes as Sherlock watched, the whip in his hand, with a wicked grin. His eyes were already looking wild.

When he was completely undressed it was Sherlock's turn. Probably because John had been able to impress his detective, he gave him a rousing performance.

He put the length of the whip in his mouth and bite down so that his hands were free. After removing his robe, he unbuttoned his shirt but didn't take it off, allowing it to hang open.

Getting up on on the bed he stood on his knees. The shirt had just barely fallen off one shoulder, his pale, smooth chest exposed. Then he reached up and removed the whip from his mouth and brought it to his cheek. Caressing the riding crop against his skin, he closed his eyes and looked lost in the sensation of leather on his skin. Slowly he slid it down his chin and to his neck. Tilting his head back, he gripped the whip with both hands and pressed it hard against his flesh. He continued to snake the crop down his chest.

With the nightshirt hanging off one shoulder, head back, spine arched and the whip slowly crawling down his chest; John was fully aroused. He slid a hand down and started stroking himself.

John could hear Sherlock breathing heavier. The riding crop was still pressed hard against his skin as it was dragged down past his stomach. It slid over his pajamas bottoms and when whip reached his crotch Sherlock pushed forward with his hips and sucked his breathe in. John whispered. "Oh God". Hearing John, he lowered his head back down to meet John's eyes. He pushed again with his hips and quietly gasped "Oh...John".

"Bloody hell..." John's mouth went dry. He was going to have to impress his detective more often.

Sherlock put the whip down and purred. "Roll over."

John so badly wanted this to continue but he calmed himself and rolled over laying flat on his stomach.

He heard Sherlock remove the rest of his clothing then felt the whip gently touch the back of his leg. He crawled up John's body as the riding crop moved higher. When Sherlock straddled his legs, sitting down on John's arse, he had a moment to wonder of if his partner would tease or start hard. Before he could finish the thought he felt the hard sting on his back.

"Oh Fuck..." His body buckled at the sudden pain and he heard Sherlock call out his name, thrusting his groin into the top of John's arse.

Sherlock didn't get off on hurting him and John didn't so much get off on the pain himself, it was something else entirely.

When John would cry out from the pain and pleasure of the leather striking his back it did something to Sherlock. Sherlock is always thinking, observing, watching, even when they make love but at that moment when John cries out, as Sherlock tried to explain, he said his mind shuts down and it's nothing but sensations, the feeling of John's body, the sounds of him, the smell of his sweat. No thought, just complete ecstasy of the senses. And this is what John got off on. It made each strike more electrifying than the last. He would feel and hear Sherlock losing himself in the moment, which would caused John to cry out louder with the next strike, which then brought Sherlock closer to that wild, carnal state. They fed off each other.

Another bite from the whip. "God...yes" John's back arched, finger's tightly gripping the bar of the headboard. Sherlock latched his free hand onto one of John's hip, gripping hard.

"Oh..John." Sherlock was grinding into him.

As the whip continued to assail his back, the intensity increased between them.**  
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When Sherlock was crying out himself, John turned his head to the side because the sight of Sherlock in this state is the most erotic thing he has ever seen.

A thin layer of sweat covered his body, muscles taut as his back was arched, mouth fallen open around ragged breathing, shaking and thrusting his groin into John's lower back. He looked stunning, beautiful, exquisite.

Then Sherlock shifted and moved down lower, coaxing John's legs apart. John had only a quick moment wonder if they might be done with the riding crop when he felt a sharp slap on his arse. John body was infused with the twisted combination of pain and thrill. The whip had only ever been used on his back and this was something entirely new and it was overwhelming.

"OH...FUCK..Yes.." He was almost shouting.

"God...John" Sherlock voice was strained.

While John still watched him, he released the strong grip he had on John's hip and placed his hand onto his chest. Caressing his own skin, the hand moved to his neck, as he continued to cant with his pelvis. When the hand reached his mouth, fingers slid across his lips and he tilted his head down. He eyes were almost crazed, savage, intoxicated, his skin was flushed. John was so captivated by the sight of this he didn't notice the flick of the whip as it again made contact with his arse. "Oh..God...please.."

Sherlock moaned around the fingers pressed to his lips.

Two long, lithe fingers went into his mouth and he started sucking on them. John's mind was reeling, putting his face back into the pillow, his body shuddered.

The slick fingers found its way to his arse. Just as they pushed inside John there was another sharp bite from the whip. John entire body jolted as he cried out into the pillow.

Sherlock groaned so loud it sounded like he was climaxing.

John was writhing on the bed as his lover ran his fingers in and out of his arse, every now and then another strike. Sherlock worked him right to the edge and just as he was on the verge of coming the fingers withdrew and John whimpered, begging for that release.

Sherlock shifted again and was now kneeling between his legs and John was delirious as he heard Sherlock reach over to the dresser; They had never done this before, it was always the whip first, then finishing in a variety of other ways.

Slick fingers coated him, pressing in again, and another strike. Hearing his lover moan out his name brought John right to the brink again. Then the fingers were removed and John felt the press of Sherlock cock against his arse. John was pleading "oh god..god.. Sherlock..yes..yes" when he felt his partner's other hand return to his hip, finger nails digging into his flesh.

At the moment his lovers cock pushed into him, there was one last hit with the whip and John saw only white. He bit his lip and pumped hard into the bed as he came. When he cried out, Sherlock lost complete control and pushed deep into him, the whip dropped from his hand and he latched onto John other hip. Sherlock was thrusting hard as John's body convulsed, he called out Sherlock's name repeatedly as his orgasm burned through him.

Sherlock continued until he reached his own climax a minute later. "JOHN...Oh..god." His partner collapsed onto his back and he could feel Sherlock's body shuddering.

It took some time for them to catch their breathe and when Sherlock's body quieted they rolled over onto their sides.

Sherlock gently ran his fingers over the welts on John's back, soothing the tender skin. And planting soft kisses on his neck he whispered John's name between each kiss.


	5. Weeks 3 & 4

**Week 3**

For a few days things between John and Sherlock remained uncomfortable. John still puzzled about his flat mate's behavior from the previous two weeks and Sherlock mood hadn't improved.

Fortunately they got a new case and Sherlock fell back into his old self. This allowed John to convinced himself that Sherlock's weird behavior had been due to boredom and had probably gotten upset because he didn't understand why John snapped.

It was a little annoying that Sherlock would try to entertain himself at his expense but he had to admit, it was more interesting than listening to Sherlock complain endlessly about being bored. John promised himself to not flip out if it happened again, being the focus of his brilliant flatmate was kind of flattering now that he understood the reason.

So when Sherlock solved the case in two days and the strange behavior returned John didn't make a fuss. First it was the staring and smiling without all the odd remarks, John could handle that. The texting returned but nowhere near the extent as before and John found himself looking forward to them each day. Lunch became routine and John quite enjoyed that. And John really enjoyed watching the telly together at night. But when the casual physical contact started, John wasn't sure about that promise made to himself.

_It started out simple…._

John was working on his blog, writing up about the new case. Sherlock came over to see what he was typing, placing a hand on his shoulder while he read.

_...and each day progressing…_

Sherlock would ask John to hand him something and would graze his fingers along John's.

_..and getting a little bolder..._

Sherlock would lightly touch John's arm or leg when he was pointing something out.

_...and became less subtle…_

When they watched the telly Sherlock would pull his legs up onto the couch and eventually a foot could come to rest against John's leg. Though the increase in frequency was a little disconcerting, John assumed Sherlock was just observing him to see what he reaction would be. John thought he was doing pretty well at not over thinking it.

_...until the incident that sent John into a silent downward spiral of bewilderment and denial.  
><em>

They had gone out to Angelo's for dinner.

Towards the end of the meal Sherlock said, "John, you have a bit of crumb on your chin."

John picked up his napkin but didn't get a change to wipe his face.

"Here let me." Reaching across the table Sherlock gently ran his thumb across John's chin and lower lip; and then smiled.

Trying not to show any expression John thanked him and finished eating. When they returned to the flat John headed to his room, excusing himself from their nightly ritual. It took him quite a while to fall asleep and was only able to finally rest after he made a decision, based purely on denial. John needed to find a girlfriend because he very much didn't want to keep thinking about how he had gotten incredibly turned on when Sherlock's thumb brushed against his lip.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

After their afternoon fun with the riding crop they had slept a few hours. Waking up later, John saw that Sherlock was already out of the bed getting dressed.

"Sherlock?"

"Lestrade called. He has a case for us."

"I'm too comfortable." Sensing a look coming he rolled over and bunched up the duvet around himself.

"Up! We need to go."

"No, go without me."

"You know that won't happen."

He heard Sherlock walking around to the other side so he pulled the blanket over his head. He wasn't about to let a pouty lip get him up. "You will have to force me out of this bed."

"You think I won't?" He felt Sherlock sitting down at the end of the bed.

"I'd like to see you try."

There was movement, the duvet was being moved. Next he felt a icy hand run down his leg. It made him shiver, from the cold touch to the wonderful feeling of his lover's caress.

"Mmm...you know that's only going to make me want to stay here."

The hand reached his ankle and latched on with a vice grip. Another hand started tickling the bottom of his foot mercilessly. John thrashed so much trying to release his ankle that he fell out of the bed.

"Bastard!"

Sherlock started laughing. "Now that you're up, get dressed."

* * *

><p><strong>Week 4<strong>

John focused his mind on two denials actually.

One, Sherlock was doing all these things because he was bored. Because the possibility that it was something else was just too much to process. If he thought about it any more than that he would have to reconsider all the things that he assumed either from Sherlock or other people. Asexual, married to his work, and as some people had pointed out, apparently still a virgin. After the last three weeks he was in no way ready to think of any of that.

Two, that he needed to meet a woman because otherwise he started to think about the arousal he felt at Sherlock's touch, and he didn't want to think about that at all.

And as long as he focused on those two things everything was alright, a perfect little walk along the razor's edge. It didn't matter that things were still the same between them, the observing, texting, touches; happy denial.

So in an attempt to work on the second important distraction for his mind, John did change one aspect of their routine. Before coming home from surgery each night he would go to the pub and try to hook up with someone. And after an hour or two of no luck, finding no one worth spending time with or just chatting about Sherlock to anyone he did meet, he would return home. Sliding down into the couch, enjoying the company of his room mate, everything was alright. Happy, happy denial.

After almost a week he found a new way to distract himself, he was now focusing on getting annoyed at his inability to hit it off with anyone. So intent on centering his attention on this he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of information when he learned that point one was not in fact accurate.

On his last failed attempt to meet someone he returned home from the pub noticeably irritated.

"What's wrong John?"

"Nothing."

"Something is obviously wrong."

"Nope...just let it be." John wished he had Sherlock's ability to change to subject.

"Maybe I can help?"

Tired and flustered he said "I pretty sure you can't. I'm just not having any luck lately meeting women."

"Oh, then you're right, I won't be of much help."

"No problem, I know dating isn't your thing."

"No, what I meant was I don't have much experience trying to meet _women_."

"Oh…what?..you've...dated...?" John turned to look at Sherlock, hoping, praying for that smile because then he could just assume Sherlock was joking. But no, no smile at all.

With all the building blocks at the basis of his first conclusion chipping away he opened his mouth and asked a question that his mind was not ready to hear the answer to.

"So you _are_..into men?"

"Yes."

And his damn mouth kept on going even though his mind was begging for it to stop. "But you said you weren't into dating, um...you're married to your work."

"I meant it. I haven't for awhile. Most people are...hmm, either too put off by me or not intriguing enough for me."

And just like that, denial one crumbled, which of course led denial two to come screaming to the forefront. His flat mate, friend, roommate, had very possibly been coming on to him in a odd Sherlock type way and John not only had started to enjoy the attention but had become aroused when those delicate fingers had grazed his lips. Closing his eyes, finally letting himself think about it, he sighed. 'God that had felt so good.'

"Right. Okay" Leaving the couch he went to his room and tried everything he could think of not to think.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Present  
><strong>

* * *

><p>They headed out to meet with Lestrade. Getting in the cab John started to regret wearing these particular jeans almost immeditaly. They were a little too tight for his slightly sore arse. He would have to remember that the next time Sherlock decided to use the whip on his bum. Looking over at Sherlock seated next to him in the cab John had to laugh at himself for trying to not show his discomfort.<p>

Sherlock was smiling at him. "When we get back would you like me to kiss it and made it better?"

"Are you trying to be cute?" John was still squirming around trying to get comfortable.

"Of course not." And his expression made it clear, he was not trying to be cute.

"It might be hours before we're home so calm yourself."

"Then stop wiggling your arse."

"I can't help it."

"Well neither can I."

"You're just going to have to wait."

"I could always tell Lestrade that somethings...mmm come up and we can't meet him until tomorrow." Giving John a suggestive smile.

"You know, when you said you hadn't dated very much you should have clarified that with _'but I love to shag all the damn time'_ to give me some warning."

Leaning over to give John a kiss he said "Before you I didn't want to all the time."

Along with his sore arse, John's heart started to ache.

* * *

><p>They arrived at an upscale flat in a very wealthy area of London and were escorted inside to a immense room crawling with detectives and police officers. Lestrade came over to greet the pair and signaled for them to move out of the way.<p>

The DI explained that there had been a burglary and the owner of the flat had shot one of the robbers. Before he could give any more details, Sherlock and Lestrade started having a heated discussion. Sherlock was complaining that this was a waste of their time as the killer was already known and the robbery was dull. And each time Lestrade tried to go into the details as to why he had called them Sherlock would interrupt.

As for John, he was having some trouble concentrating on what Lestrade was telling them. He had picked up a few things such as priceless paintings, black market art collection and some random words like scandal and royalty. But as the two men continued to bicker John was hearing less and less of what they were saying.

The reason for John's difficulties was because Sherlock had decided that then and there was the perfect time for some payback for that day John hid their toy with the added bonus of getting John turned on. Or maybe it was the other way around, knowing Sherlock that was more likely.

It started with two finger's roughly dragging down John's back, inflaming the tender skin caused by the riding crop hours earlier. John's eyes went wide and his body shuddered.

No one saw this of course. His devilish partner was watching most of the room while he and Lestrade argued. He had waited for a moment when Lestrade had turned away and no one else was looking in their direction.

The second time John sucked in his breath sharply. Sherlock was moving his fingers with just the right amount of pressure to penetrate the buffer of John's shirt and coat but not enough to cause discomfort, sending waves of pleasure straight to John's groin. He was about tell Sherlock to stop but Lestrade had turned back.

And the third time, when he was semi-hard and had to bite his lip not to groan, John understood that things were only going to get more interesting.

Then a minute later Sherlock did it again and biting his lip wasn't enough to suppress the moan as the sensations swept through him.

Having no idea how far Sherlock would take this John started to make a plan to move away. Enjoyable as the sensations were, Sherlock could quite possibly embarrassing the hell out of him before he stopped.

Sometimes dating a mind reader can be endearing, sometimes not. While throwing out another volley of complaints, this time saying that he and John had better things to do than work on this pointless case, Sherlock placed his hand on John's shoulder.

"Right John?"

Pulling him into the conversation Sherlock quelled any ideas of escape.

Quite possibility because he wasn't thinking straight John tried to turn the tables. "Well no not really. Haven't had any cases for awhile." And when that hand on his shoulder gave a little squeeze John tried to stifle a laugh. He still needed to work on not falling into Sherlock's traps.

Lestrade's eyes narrowed at Sherlock. "Than why the hell are you giving me such a hard time about this Sherlock?"

If John had agreed with Sherlock that they were busy they might have been walking out the door right now. But nope, John had just given Sherlock more time to play.

"Because it's just a simple robbery, not worth my time." One finger had found it's way to John's neck and teased the skin. The tightness in John's jeans returned quickly.

Getting distracted again he must have missed Lestrade turn away because the next thing he knew those fingers were scrapping across a tender spot just below his shoulder. Even biting his lip hard, "ahhh..." still came out and he was no longer just semi-hard.

Lestrade began giving John an odd look, probably due to his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. Tugging his coat down, John was grateful that it was long enough to cover his erection.

"John?"

"What?" Whipping his head around like he had been caught doing something wrong.

"You look warm, maybe you should take you're coat off." Sherlock looked completely serious, the bastard never plays fair.

John couldn't answer, just staring like a deer caught in headlights.

Lestrade started looking back and forth between the two.

"Sherlock?" The DI probably knew by now they were up to some mischief. This wouldn't be the first time Sherlock pulled something on John in front of him.

"So tell me Lestrade why should I care that the man was collecting stolen paintings?"

Looking between them one more time Lestrade continued trying explain.

_'Christ Almighty'_ the nerves on his back were on fire. Lestrade hadn't even turned away that time. John let out a loud sigh, his bottom lip looked slightly swollen from biting down so hard and his knees went weak. _'God that felt so good.'_

"Goddamnit Sherlock..." Lestrade was more than a little annoyed. And John went right back to not listening, there was no point in trying.

So caught up between worrying about hiding his arousal and enjoying the hell out of it, he was a bit surprised when Sherlock and Lestrade started to walk away. John didn't move as he wasn't sure he could without drawing attention to himself. Standing still was the best option.

And of course his bastard of a boyfriend called John over to assist him.

"John?" Sherlock repeated.

"Y..yes?"

"Can you come over here and give me your opinion on this." Now in the middle of the room surrounded by police officers, Sherlock was crouched down in front of something on the floor. Lestrade was standing in front of him looking at John expectantly.

Unsuccessfully attempting to not walk stiffly John made his way over to them. Finding his voice he asked "Opinion on what?"

"What do you see?"

"It looks like a soiled glove."

"No, there's something else, come closer."

God damn he is good at this_. _Trying to not think about all the people around them, John crouched down next to Sherlock, unavoidably showing some discomfort. His erection pressed even further into his jeans which pulled them very tight against his tender arse. He groaned.

Looking over at Sherlock, John wasn't the least bit surprised by what he saw. Sherlock had stopped all pretense. He just watched John with one of his mischievous grins. John had recently convinced himself that he isn't a _complete_ idiot when it comes to Sherlock and his games. He knew he could have stopped all this awhile ago but the combination of being so achingly worked up, not wanting to embarrass himself and enjoying the hell out of Sherlock's attention, deep down he really didn't want to stop him.

John smiled back _'you win, are you done now?'_

"What does this look like to you John?" He pointed to a stain on the glove.

And sending a shiver down John's spine that grin went straight to _'Oh no, I'm not done yet'_ wicked.

Glancing away to look at where Sherlock was pointing John started to speak "Um... it looks like...Oh...fuck..Sherlock."

Not caring that Lestrade could see, Sherlock had placed his hand on John's thigh and slid it straight up, lightly stroking John's painful erection.

"Bloody hell Sherlock this is serious, stop acting like a horny teenager." Lestrade was scowling at both of them and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed.

Sherlock got up, smiled at the DI and said "OK I'll take the case" then walked away.

Standing quickly, causing himself to get a little light headed, John tried to leave the room as fast as he could. Before he made it to the door Sherlock walked up and put an around around his shoulder.

"You can be a real pain in the arse sometimes Sherlock." The DI was clearly angry.

"Hmm...John do you agree, am I a pain in the arse?" And this time not giving a damn who was looking, his hand left Johns' shoulder and went straight to his arse. Giving it a nice little squeeze right on one of the sore spots.

"Oh...my...god..." It came out as part cry of surprise and part moan; and was very loud. John's body shook visibly, his face went bright red and half the room was now looking at him.

Not saying a word he turned and left the room.


	7. Week 5

**Week 5**

After Sherlock's revelation John retired to his bedroom and tried to take his mind off of everything that had recently occurred. More specifically John paced the room while his mind shouted _'FUCK...what the FUCKING FUCK!'_

Trying to think of ways to not think hadn't worked out too well.

John wasn't distressed by Sherlock's sexual preference, he really didn't have any issues with that.

But now knowing where Sherlock's interests lie and that he wasn't asexual, _god he felt like such an ass for letting all the comments and innuendos from other people get to him_, John now had to consider the possibility that Sherlock might have been hitting on him instead of just acting out of boredom.

_'Fuck'_ that didn't make any sense at all.

If Sherlock had decided to pursue him it made more sense for Sherlock to bluntly let John know. Hell he wouldn't have been shocked if Sherlock had said "John I'm bored, let's shag" in front of all of Scotland Yard.

So why go all that trouble for four straight weeks. Was it a game, a distraction, had he meticulously planned it out? Or was John making all this a much bigger deal than it really was. _'Fucking Hell'_.

He just wanted to stop thinking about this. It was wearing him out. Why did his flat mate have to make things so sodding difficult.

It had to stop, he couldn't deal with it anymore and the only solution was to make Sherlock tell him. No matter how much Sherlock hated talking about emotions and no matter how hard he tried to avoid it John had to get him to talk.

And bloody hell he needed to apologize for walking out of the room when Sherlock had basically 'come out' to him.

Focusing on how to get Sherlock to talk to him John entirely avoided the thing that was really troubling him. He stored his reaction to Sherlock's touch even further into denial.

* * *

><p>The next morning Sherlock was sitting on the couch playing with his phone while John got ready for work.<p>

Delaying as long as possible trying to gather his resolve, John eventually sat next to him.

"Sherlock, I...I'm sorry for rushing out of the room like that last night."

"Hmm."

"I don't have a problem with you...being into men."

Sherlock didn't reply.

"I was just surprise that you had...um..dated anyone."

Sherlock looked up and his eyes narrowed at the implication of that statement.

"I...I just mean that it doesn't matter to me. I'm glad you told me."

"Mmm" This wasn't working very well. His resolve was fading under Sherlock's stare. And he was getting flustered by not being able to get Sherlock talk.

"So..I'm sorry that it seemed like it bothered me."

A small smile finally broke the serious expression.

"And we need to talk about..."

Sherlock put a hand on John's knee and interrupted. "You're going to be late for work."

More than flustered now John stood up and muttered "Ok we can talk later." and headed out. This wasn't going to be easy.**  
><strong>

.. ..

John received a text from Sherlock later that day._  
><em>

_Mrs Hudson made us cottage pie_

_That was nice of her**  
><strong>_

_Come home for lunch_

Any attempt at broaching the subject while they ate lunch resulted in Sherlock looking very uncomfortable and about to walk out of the room. He would try again tonight.

.. ..

And that night as they settled down for another movie John didn't feel like asking again. After a long day at surgery he just wanted to relax and it was somewhat hard to think clearly with Sherlock laying down on the couch with his feet pressed against John's leg.

* * *

><p>Giving himself more time the next morning John joined Sherlock in the kitchen. He was taking apart their toaster oven while John ate breakfast.<p>

"I need you to explain all this too me."

"Pass me the screwdriver." Not looking up Sherlock held out his hand.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear me."

"Explain all of what?" His hand was still out waiting for the tool.

"The way you've been acting with me these last few weeks. Is it because you're bored or something else?"

John passed over the screwdriver and Sherlock's fingers grazed over his.

Still not looking up Sherlock mumbled "Something else."

Trying to ignore his reaction to that touch John pressed the issue. "And the something else would be..?"

And without replying Sherlock got up and left the room.

At least he was making some progress, though he wasn't looking forward to spending the day finally knowing it wasn't boredom and attempting to figure out what 'something else' might mean. John's mind really wanted a holiday from this whole matter.

. ..

_ we need a new toaster oven_

_why?  
><em>

_exploded_

_are you ok?_

_cant make toast, meet me for lunch_

Figuring Sherlock would avoid their lunches if he mentioned it again he just wanted to enjoy his flat mate's company and complain about the toaster oven.  
><em>.. ..<em>

Returning home John sat on the couch and Sherlock must have guessed he was going to bring it up. When he glanced over Sherlock had a look that said _'Don't or I will leave the room'_. So John just focused on relaxing and soon tried to not focus on both of Sherlock's feet that were now resting on his lap.

* * *

><p>Sherlock wasn't in the flat the next morning while John got ready for work. The bastard must have figured out that was when John had the most courage in his attempts talk to him.<p>

_.. .._

He did send him a text later that day though._  
><em>

_I solved the toasted oven problem_

_I thought it blew up?_

_meet at Angelo's, I'll explain  
><em>

_Ok_

As they were both too busy arguing over something else the subject never came up._  
><em>

_.. .._

There was no telly that night, instead they both just read. This was due to Sherlock explaining his plans of remodeling their kitchen after a cooking show he saw that morning and after that lengthy discussion during lunch John told him they needed to cut back on television shows. And it was distracting enough having to pretend Sherlock's legs were not now fully stretched across his lap._  
><em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock's bedroom door was closed while John got ready for work. This was getting too damn hard on his already addled brain. Either he would have to bring it up at lunch or in the evening if he was going to get anywhere.<p>

.. ..

_Lunch early today please_

_why_

_mycroft called he's coming to the flat  
><em>

_let me know when your here  
><em>

Mycroft had caught Sherlock on his way out so he was in a foul mood when they met. There was no way John was going talk to him about it while Sherlock was in that state.

_.. .._

While reading that night instead of feet resting on John's lap, Sherlock had turned to lay on the couch the other direction and his head was lightly resting against John's arm. That tossed out all notions of a discussion as John tried to center his thoughts on his book._  
><em>

* * *

><p>Maybe because John hadn't said anything for a few days Sherlock didn't avoid him. Instead he leaned on the bathroom door while John finished shaving.<p>

He took the opportunity as he wasn't sure if another chance would come anytime soon. Without choosing his words carefully he just blurted out, "The something else, was that some plan to flirt with me?"

When he got no response John could only assumed it had been. A little thrown by this assumed confirmation he again spoke without thinking.

"Um...is it just...for something physical or...something more?"

"I don't understand."

Wiping his face off with a towel John noticed his hands were shaking a little.

"You said it had been awhile. Are you...just looking for..."

Sherlock reached over and rubbed his chin. "You missed a spot."

Then showed John a bit of shaving cream on his fingers that John had missed. While trying desperately to ignore the stir his body felt at that touch his mind nearly got whiplash when Sherlock answered him.

He had walked away and went into his room but just as the door closed Sherlock said, "Something more."

...

No text, no lunch that day, which was just as well since John was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that Sherlock had been playing some game to come on to him. No it wasn't just coming on to him...'something more'. Hell did Sherlock want a long term relationship with him, date him? To go from friends to what...lovers? And that notion brought John's confusion to levels he didn't know existed..

Paying no attention to everything he was feeling John decided that tonight he needed put an end to this whole thing. He didn't think he could deal with anymore of this. He had to tell Sherlock that he didn't feel the same way. But he wanted to ask one thing first, curiosity got the better of him.

.. ..

On the couch reading, with Sherlock's head resting against his shoulder John asked "Why me?"

There was a long pause and John figured he wouldn't reply but then Sherlock eventually said "You're intriguing."

That was not the answer he expected.

"How could I possibly be intriguing to you?"

Another pause that dragged out far too long.

"You really don't like talking about this do you?"

"No, not really."

He wasn't going to get anywhere on that point though he really, extremely, immensely wanted to know what Sherlock could possibly find intriguing about him.

Ok then, back to the important issue at hand "Sherlock. I...don't..."

He was interrupted by a cell phone ringing and Sherlock jumping up a little to eager to answer it.

"Yes?" A scowl formed on his face.

"No that's not..."

"I don't want your..."

"Fine!" Hanging up the phone Sherlock was angry. He grabbed his coat.

"Who was that? What's going on?"

"Mycroft. He's...being a prat. I need to go talk with him. I'll be back later." and Sherlock stormed out.

_'What the hell was that about'. _John went to bed and tried to sleep. He was sure he was going to have a mental collapse from all this speculation._  
><em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock wasn't in the flat that next the morning and John wondered if he had ever returned home from his meeting with Mycroft. And with no text that day John imagined whatever it had been about wasn't good.<p>

But that night when John returned from surgery Sherlock was home and to John's dismay he looked perfectly fine considering he had spent a lengthy amount of time in his brother's company.

He was watching a science program on the telly so John settled down and worked on his nerve. After awhile he got the courage and being too occupied with how Sherlock would react, John didn't acknowledge how they were currently resting on the couch together.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm"

"I..I'm not...into you _that_ way. You know that right?"

Sodding silence again. "Sherlock?"

"Yes John. I understand."

It was probably a combination of the massive confusion and the legendary denial but John completely missed the irony of telling his flatmate that he was not into him _that_ way while Sherlock was snuggled up against him and John's arm was now around his flat mate's back.

"Are you ok with that?"

"Of course."

Well that went better than expected. Completely clueless John felt at ease for the first time in the last few weeks.

* * *

><p>With all that settled John relaxed on his day off and had a pleasant time while Sherlock alternated between an experiment and watching John.<p>

And later when Sherlock put in one of John's favorite movies and they got comfortable John was still in happy denial land. They had a good time as Sherlock pointed out all the plot holes in the movie while John kept telling him to shut it and just enjoy the damn thing.

When the movie was over John saw that Sherlock had fallen on asleep still resting his head on John's shoulder. Trying to get up without waking him Sherlock stirred. He looked up at John still coming out of sleep.

"Hmm" He was smiling, gazing into John's eyes.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to wake you."

John found himself enthralled by what he saw. Sherlock's eyes were still half closed, long thick lashes covering dark pupils as they adjusted to the light, a sweet sleepy grin, the dim light of the room made his pale skin almost glow. John felt a tightness in his chest, his best mate looked, well amazing. He let out a ragged breath taking it all in.

"It's ok" Sherlock replied sounding all dreamy.

Then before John knew what was happening Sherlock placed a hand on his cheek, leaned up and kissed him. As John kissed him back his mind took that holiday and all he could think of was how incredibly wonderful it felt.

It was just a light kiss but when he heard Sherlock let out a small moan everything crashed back to reality. Jumping off the couch John completely freaked the fuck out.

Not stopping to realize where the confusion was coming from it all came out in a tirade of half sentences and epic cursing as he paced the room, glaring at Sherlock.

"What the serious fuck..."

"Five god damn weeks..."

"...the hell is wrong with you playing games with my emotions..."

"I was pretty fucking clear about how I felt..."

When John had first pulled away Sherlock had looked equally as shocked but as John ranted his face showed nothing. Flat, expressionless, empty. He just took it all in and never said a damn word which added to John's anger.

"...planning this out like some bloody case to solve..."

"...couldn't just tell me, no that would be too easy..."

"I'm not some fucking experiment you can toy with..."

Finally he yelled "This shit is going to stop right god damn now!" and then stormed out, slamming the door to the sitting room for added effect.

He only took a few steps down the hall then leaned against the railing of the stairs to catch his breath and calm down. After a minute he was about to head up his room when he heard something coming from the other room. It was so faint John wasn't sure what it was at first.

When he finally figured out what the sound was and realized it wasn't meant for John to hear, everything else came crashing down. He finally began to understand Sherlock and started to see his own feelings for his best friend.


	8. Week 6

**Week 6**

Over the next few days John was able to figure out the answers to some of his most pressing questions due what he heard on the other side of that door. Mainly he figured out what had Sherlock been playing at all these weeks, what he meant by 'something more' and even understanding Sherlock's reactions whenever John had gone mental. And by the end of the week John accepted that he felt something more than friendship for Sherlock.

But right at that moment, still standing there in the hallway, the sound of Sherlock quietly crying broke his heart.

It was the most heart-rending sound he had ever heard and he wanted to do nothing more than go back in, apologize until his throat ran dry, and try to make things right.

But he knew what would happen if he opened that door. If Sherlock saw that John had heard him, he would probably shut John out completely, closing off all his emotions for good. So John did the hardest thing he had ever done and silently went to his room.

And he also stopped trying to not think and began to finally understand Sherlock.

.. ..

As things in the flat returned to normal, very depressingly normal, John spent the time figuring out his flat mate and his own emotions.

The most obvious answer came to him that first night. What 'something more' had meant.

Hearing his flat mate suffering quietly made it very clear. This wasn't Sherlock wanting to just start a relationship or date John and it was something more than lovers. Sherlock, who prided himself on his ability not to care, had focused all of his emotions toward John. He very much cared. And it wasn't just his bottled up emotions, Sherlock had focused his mind onto John. John felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner. During those five weeks Sherlock had only taken on one small case but not once had he complained about needing a new one or that he was bored.

'Something more' was just about everything.

Understanding that made it easier for John to piece together what Sherlock had being trying to do. His friend, lacking the means to express those emotions verbally, did just what a Sherlock would do; research and observe.

It took him two days to understand that part but it made perfect sense when he did. It had seemed like Sherlock was flirting but being so uncharacteristic of his normal behavior John hadn't been able to understand why he had done it so bizarrely.

Sherlock faced with something unknown would have researched. And again it became so obvious John felt like an idiot for not picking up on it. John walked through what he imaged Sherlock had done and did a online search for flirting or how to show someone you're interested. It was all right there.

Show the person you've notice them, share their interests, smile, causal physical contact and one site even suggested taking the person out to lunch and sending texts. And poor Sherlock had gone a bit overboard. He had looked up what to do, did that until it failed, then went to the next step. And since John hadn't complained about the lunches and the touching, Sherlock had just stuck with those.

And a few days later John was able to make sense of all the times Sherlock had secluded himself. He now knew that Sherlock hadn't been angry at John's reactions but upset with himself for doing it wrong. The most brilliant man John had ever met was frustrated and angry at his inability to do something as simple as flirt. Which explained a little why Sherlock had broken down that night, he probably thought he had messed up so bad that he had pushed John away completely.

The conclusion of all this was that it had never been long term plan, he hadn't been playing or making a game of it as John had assumed. He had tried to win John over step by step and John felt like a complete prat for not seeing that.

After almost a week of sorting all this out John understood Sherlock better than he every thought possible. John also decided he would never let Sherlock know what he heard that night and he would keep letting Sherlock believe that John still thought it had all been some kind of game. To make him face those emotions would be cruel.

.. ..

Though that week had led to significant discoveries it was still damn confusing.

John couldn't get a handle on what he felt in return for Sherlock and he had no idea how to proceed to make things right between them.

His reaction to that kiss and what he had felt in his heart that night made it undeniably clear that he felt something beyond friendship. But mentally John still felt he wasn't gay. It wasn't like a switch he could turn over. He had never been with another man, hadn't ever been attracted to a man. Could he be comfortable being in a physical relationship with Sherlock? Did he even want that? This wasn't something that had a simple solution. It was going to take time. The only thing he knew at this point was how much he cared about Sherlock and that he was willing to explore that strange desire he had felt. But it scared the hell out of him.

Now what to do about it.

Everything had gone back to normal, as in the day before all this started normal. John didn't know if the damage from that night was irreparable.

Sherlock had taken on a new case the very next day and went right back to his previous treatment of him. Focusing on the case, basically ignoring him except to bounce ideas of him. And when the case was solved Sherlock would work on experiment or read in his chair, never the couch anymore, not acknowledging John unless he needed something. John knew he wasn't being malicious or enacting punishment. It was just easier for Sherlock to do this instead of dealing with everything that happened.

So the question was how could to make Sherlock deal with it without making him close up even more.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

As his embarrassment died down, John stood in the hallway listening to Sherlock tell Lestrade that they were leaving and would work on the case tomorrow. Ignoring the DI's rant, Sherlock walked out into the hall and gave John his best impression of looking guilty. It didn't last long as John's impression of being angry was failing miserably and they both got the giggles.

After their laughter quieted down John asked, "Are we even now?"

Sherlock stepped forward closing the distance between them, all pretense of quilt gone, "Do you regret what you did yet?"

"Do I ever?"

"Mmm." Ignoring all the people around them, Sherlock grabbed John's belt and pulled him closer. And getting lost in the moment John started to reach up to give Sherlock a kiss.

"Get the hell out of my crime scene!" Lestrade snapped from the doorway.

Shades of red reappeared on John's face. Grabbing his partner's hand, John roughly dragged him out while Sherlock cracked up again.

"Shut it, you big git."

.. ..

When they got into a cab Sherlock took John's hand and brought it to his lips.

"You really upset Lestrade this time, Sherlock."

"It was worth it." Sherlock started kissing the back of his hand.

"That was an important case wasn't it?"

"Possibly."

Warm breath around wet lips on his hand and Sherlock watching him with half closed eyes, John savored the sensation and appreciated his lover's attention. He closed his own eyes and started to feel all warm and fuzzy. The idea that Sherlock had ignored the case to focus on him made his heart ache. And the more he thought about it the more John wanted to tell Sherlock how much he loved him.

When he noticed the kisses had paused John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock giving him a look.

"You have no one to blame but yourself, you know."

Sherlock tried switching to a more menacing look.

"Tough shit. You're just going to have to deal with me feeling romantic." Paying no mind to Sherlock's theatrics, John moved closer to snuggle up against him.

* * *

><p><strong>Week 6 cont.<strong>

No more subtly, that's what John decided, straight to the point. One important conversation to get it all out. Anything else might lead to more confusion for both of them.

Sherlock was reading a journal in his usual chair so John pulled the other chair over and sat across from him.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I have you're full attention please."

Sherlock put the journal down. "Yes John?" Serious, expressionless, as if nothing at all had happened.

"I know how much you don't want to talk about this, I really do, but we need to."

His flat mate was starting to look uneasy. John knew he wouldn't have long before Sherlock bolted out of the room.

"Please. I need you to stay and listen to me. I promise I won't ever do this to you again. Okay?'

Mulling this over for a few seconds, Sherlock reluctantly replied, "Okay."

"I would like things to go back to the way they were."

The unease went away and Sherlock was back to detached, emotionless. "I thought they had."

John leaned in closer. "No not like this. I mean to what it was before I flipped out...Do you understand?"

He studied John for a bit, his eyes searching, reading him. "I think so."

"But I need to know if that's still possible."

John could see Sherlock struggling again, he shifted in his chair. Eventually he spoke, the words slowly drawn out, "It..is."

"I understand what you want with me..." He was losing him. Sherlock shifted again and ran his palms down his thighs.

"...and I obviously feel something for you but I don't know what that is yet."

Sherlock eyes darting around the room, probably calculating the quickest route to his bedroom.

John reached over and took both of Sherlock's hands into his own. Sherlock's attention snapped back and he looked at John. God he felt awful for putting him through this but he was so close to the end of what he wanted to say, "Let me finish, please."

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Letting it out slow, he kept his eyes shut, "Okay."

"I don't know yet but I would like...I want figure it out. I would like to see where it leads."

Opening his eyes, Sherlock looked so innocently take aback by that statement. "Really?"

"Yes Sherlock. I don't know if I will feel the same as you do but I do know that I care about you...Do you understand?"

And there was finally a hint of a smile. "Yes."

"You're going to have to be patient with me okay? I still might get nervous and maybe freak out a little, but I won't get angry again."

"Okay."

"But I need to know, if it ends up being less than what you want can you accept that?"

His smile grew, "Of course."

John returned a smile, "Now can we please just go sit on the couch and watch something on the telly together?"

He didn't get a reply but Sherlock got up pulling John with him and walked them to the couch. Without another word, they got comfortable together just as before, and John put his arm around Sherlock's back.

It was a good start and John only had to get through one more confusing week.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is full of romantic slash, might have gone overboard but it is the story of John falling for Sherlock so they deserve some loving.**

* * *

><p><strong>Present<br>**

* * *

><p>Though John was feeling overly romantic he didn't want to subject Sherlock to an endless stream of endearments, it never went as well as he thought it would. And since he was still extremely turned on, Sherlock sucking on one of his fingers making sure of that, John opted for a more interesting way to show his lover how he felt.<p>

After a little resistance trying pull his finger out from between Sherlock's teeth John sat up from snuggling against him.

He tenderly caressed Sherlock's cheek with the back of his fingers and gave him a captivating smile that said, _'You make me so happy'_

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed.

Leaning forward John kissed the soft bow of Sherlock's lip. Sliding his fingers through his dark curls John pulled him closer. Sherlock brought his hands to John's face.

Light caressing of skin, gentle kisses, they remained embraced for the rest of the cab ride. Neither of them caring when the cabbie cleared his throat trying to point out that they were not alone.

As soon as the door to their flat closed John latched on to those lips again. They both started to quietly moan as their kiss became more demanding. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and pressed their bodies together.

When the desire between them became urgent John pulled back. He looked at his partner with hungry eyes, panting between parted lips, his heart racing, fingernails digging into the back of Sherlock's neck.

_'I need you'_

Sherlock grinned and pulled him upstairs._  
><em>

Once in the bedroom John pushed Sherlock against the wall and started unbuttoning his shirt. With each undone button John would run his hands across Sherlock's pale flesh, taking deliberate time to undress him. Each button taking longer than the last, exploring all of Sherlock's chest.

When the last button was undone, John guided one of Sherlock's arms out of the shirt. Still running a hand over Sherlock's chest and abdomen, he started kissing his bare shoulder. John continued working his lips down Sherlock's arm, placing small tender bites on his wrist. Then down his hand, staring into Sherlock's eyes as he sucking on each finger.

_'I want all of you'_

Sherlock leaned his head back to the wall and moaned.

John repeated this, removed Sherlock's shirt from his other shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. Lips and tongue exploring and tasting all the way down Sherlock's hand and fingers.

Still holding Sherlock's fingers to his mouth, sucking on long delicate fingers, John worked his other hand to his partner's waist. He lazily worked on undoing the button of Sherlock's trousers and pulling down the zipper.

When Sherlock attempted to help John guided his hand away.

Kissing his way back up back up Sherlock's arm to his neck, John continued to slowly undo Sherlock's trousers, grazing his hand against Sherlock groin occasionally. Sherlock would faintly moan each time.

When the zipper was finally worked down, John released Sherlock fingers from his mouth and hooked his own under his partner's waistband and worked them down. His fingernails lightly scratching Sherlock's hips, fingers caressing his thighs, all the was down his legs until John was kneeling. He removed Sherlock's shoes then helped him step out of his fallen trousers.

As John gradually stood his hands followed his lover's body up. Breathing heavy Sherlock watched as John lightly caressed up his legs, hips, chest until his was standing again, his hands running up Sherlock's neck to his face.

_'I love every inch of you'_

Sherlock grabbed the back his head and crushed their lips together, rocking his hips and groin into John. He started to work on removing John's shirt but John broke their embrace and stepped back, causing Sherlock to whimper.

Just as his hands had done, John sweep his eyes over Sherlock's naked body. Head to toe and back up, while Sherlock watched him. When their eyes met again, John was overwhelmed at the sight of his lover.

_"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.'_

Sherlock closed his eyes, breathe ragged. "John..."

Taking Sherlock's hands John led him to their bed. Sherlock climbed up and then under his watchful lover's eye John unabashedly removed all his clothes.

As the last of his clothing dropped to the floor John joined Sherlock on the bed. He climbed atop his lover and places wet kisses on Sherlock's neck.

He licked, kisses, nibbles his way down, circling Sherlock's nipple with his tongue, causing his back to arch.

John kissed lower, stopping to trace his tongue across one hip. Continued down Sherlock's hip to his thigh. Then moving himself between Sherlock's legs, he slid one of Sherlock's leg up higher and started licking Sherlock's inner thigh.

Sherlock gasped. "John...oh.. yes.."

Now he worked up, lightly running his tongue higher. As John reached sensitive shin he paused to look up. Sherlock's chest was rising and falling fast, his hands were gripped tightly into the duvet, his neck taut as his head angled back. So incredibly stunning.

A shiver ran through Sherlock when their eyes met.

Working further up between Sherlock's legs, John showed his complete unwavering desire for his lover when he began running his tongue over Sherlock's arse.

Sherlock buckled, one hand shot up to grip the headboard so forcefully it banged into the wall. "Ahhhh...God..."

Easing his tongue across his entrance, Sherlock's body twisted up and down.

Increasing the intensity, John worked his tongue inside.

"Fuck...John..." A hand clawed into his hair, Sherlock's hips were jutting forward. Licking and probing with his tongue, John didn't stop until Sherlock was just about to come. Halting abruptly denying his lover's release he moved his tongue up.

"Please...oh god..don't stop." The fingers in John's hair were trying to pull him back down.

Sherlock groaned and eased his grip when John licked the base of his cock, then worked his tongue up, exploring all of him.

"Ahhhh...Yes...Oh god..."

When he reach the head of Sherlock's cock he paused to look up. Sherlock let out a low growl, his hips twitching. Waiting until Sherlock met his eyes again, John slowly trailed his tongue across the tip of his cock, licking off the precum.

_'I love the taste you'_

"John...Oh...Fuck..." His eyes went wide with lust.

Then he slowly took Sherlock into his mouth, sucking down to the base, causing delightful sounds from his love.

Pulling back up he swirled his tongue around the head of Sherlock's cock. He placed his hand on the back of Sherlock arse and pushed him up, pushing his cock deep into his mouth. Fingers clawed into his scalp as Sherlock drove his pelvis up and down, keening with each thrust.

John was rutting his own erection against Sherlock's leg as he moaned around his lover's length.

John moved a hand to the base of Sherlock erection, stroking as he sucked up and down. The other hand on Sherlock back moved down and he began rubbing a finger across Sherlock's arse, teasing just slightly, then he pushed his finger in.

"Ahhhhhh..." Sherlock threw his head back, angling his body up while trying to stay in rhythm with John's movements.

When John crooked his finger to hit just the right spot, Sherlock cried out again. He was pulling so hard on the headboard John hear the metal strain. The nails on his scalp digging in harder, the pain of it was electrifying.

It didn't take long to bring Sherlock to the verge of climaxing again. John withdrew his finger and release his cock from his mouth before he could.

"Fuck...John...please...please..." The grip in his hair let go as Sherlock clawed sharply into the blanket, his body convulsed as it was denied.

John rose up and slide atop Sherlock. When their cocks pressed against each other, Sherlock, still writhing, grabbed John's arse with both hands and feverishly ground against him. John hissed at the mild pain from the still sore welts on his arse.

He kissed Sherlock, moaning as their tongues desperately sought each other. Sherlock let go of the headboard and ran his finger's through John's hair. Not digging into skin but crushing their lips together.

John turned them onto their sides, with mouths still locked and Sherlock still grinding against him. Twisting his arm he reached behind and blindly pawed at the nightstand searched for the lube.

He placed the bottle against Sherlock's hands and pulled back from their kiss. After all the teasing at his arse, he knew Sherlock was assuming that John wanted take him. As Sherlock was panting, looking at him with wide eyes, John curled his lips into a seductive grin.

_"I want you in me.'_

John saw the flicker of excitement on his face, as he enjoyed John's reactions more when Sherlock was inside him.

He took the lube from John's hand and pulled him back for another kiss. Hitching a leg over Sherlock's, he hissed when he felt the cool liquid being spread around his arse. And when a finger pushed in, John buried his mouth into Sherlock's neck, groaning at the intense sensation.

Now John was writhing as Sherlock worked his finger in and out of John arse. When the finger withdrew John rolled Sherlock onto his back again and kneeled above of him. Sherlock stroked his cock, slicking it with the remaining lube on his fingers.

They were both breathing fast, as John guiding Sherlock's erection, lowering himself down.

His lover placed his hands on John hips and slowly eased himself inside John. Staring down at Sherlock, supporting himself with his hands on Sherlock's chest, his face showed all the pleasure he felt when Sherlock thrust up into him.**  
><strong>

_'You feel perfect inside me.'_

"John...oh...god..."

Sherlock thrust into him deeper and John's head fell onto his chest.

Their pace quicken, Sherlock pumping hard, John meeting each thrust. Finger nails gripped his hips and John knew his love wouldn't last much longer.

Pulling himself so he was sitting up, he was enthralled by Sherlock, the feel of him inside John, the sheen of sweat coating his skin, the sensual noises from those lush lips, muscles strained as his hips and pelvis drove upwards.

John begged for Sherlock to touch him, arching back, letting out a pleading whine. A hand left his hip and Sherlock started stroking his cock. John sucked his breathe as his lover's hand worked him.

Leaning back further, supported by Sherlock's legs as they drove against each other faster, he rocked harder trying to get Sherlock deeper inside him. Sherlock started pounding into him faster.

"John..my John...my John..."

John felt his orgasm building quickly with those words. Sherlock jerked him faster and he spoke for the first time as he came, shooting out over Sherlock's hand onto his chest. Crying out, "Sherlock...yes...Sherlock..."

_'I'm yours. Always.'_

As his muscles tightened around Sherlock's cock, his lover thrust deep once more, his body wrenching as he released inside John. "Oh..God...Oh...God..John..My John."

His body shuddered from the feeling of Sherlock coming inside him and the last sensations of his own climax. Sherlock sat up and wrapped his arms around John's back, holding him tight, his body still shaking, their hips still grinding.

Both of them breathless, John grabbed his lover and kissed him deeply. Then he looked into Sherlock's eyes, saying the last of his unspoken words.

_'I love you'_

He saw beautiful tears in his eyes. Sherlock dropped his forehead against John chest and held him tighter.

Still catching his breath Sherlock whispered, "And I love you, John."


	10. Week 7 Part 1

**Week 7 part 1**

John's decision to talk to Sherlock had been a good idea. They returned to their 'better than normal' routine and Sherlock backed off giving John some time to think. For all of one day. To be fair to Sherlock it was partly John's fault that he started up again. In all of his confusion John had forgotten to tell Sherlock that he had taken that particular day off of work.

He was able to sleep in for about 30 minutes before Sherlock started lightly knocking on his door.

"What?...I'm trying to sleep."

From behind the door Sherlock said, "John, you're going to be late for work."

"Not working today. Lemme sleep."

When his door opened and Sherlock peeked in, John made the mistake of looking. His flat mate appeared overly concerned. "Why?"

"Hell, didn't I tell you I took the day off?"

"No you didn't." With his voice also full of concern, he asked again "Why?"

Burying his head under the blanket John knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep. "I'll be up in a minute."

John eventually got up, threw on his pajamas and went downstairs for breakfast feeling a bit grumpy that he wasn't still sleeping.

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously while he ate. "Why did you take the day off?"

"Nothing diabolical. I need to run some errands, go to the bank, post office, market. And also just wanted a day to relax."

"Oh." Sherlock seemed so pleasantly surprised that John's grumpiness faded. He was probably stressing himself watching for any reactions from John after their talk.

Trying to lighten the mood he smiled and joked, "Sorry, next time I'll be sure to make a note in my laptop so you won't be surprised." He got up to get dressed to the sound of Sherlock laughing.

After getting ready to go out he almost ran into Sherlock who was standing right outside his bedroom door. There was a silly grin on his face.

"What is it Sherlock?"

"Would you like some company today?"

It was John's turn to be surprised. "I…Yes that would be nice."

"I'll just be a minute." Sherlock barreled down the stairs and ran into his own room.

By the time John got downstairs and finished getting ready to head out Sherlock reappeared complete dressed and smiling like a giant git.

Still giggling at how giddy Sherlock was acting John's mind didn't unhinge when Sherlock started holding his hand during their cab ride.

.. ..

The day had been very nice. Spending the afternoon with Sherlock out of the flat had been enjoyable and John was pleasantly relaxed by the time they got comfortable on the couch that night. He stayed relaxed right up until he said he need to go to bed. Relaxed left when Sherlock leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Goodnight John."

John didn't freak out. He did blink a lot and opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he had forgotten how to speak but he didn't freak out.

"Ok...goodnight Sherlock."

He didn't get much sleep. As he kept thinking about the wonderful day they had and those soft, tempting lips. His time to be at ease as probably over. John had to figure out what he felt for Sherlock. Obviously his was aroused at the physical contact but mentally he just couldn't get a handle on it. Sherlock wasn't unattractive, he was just, well, a man. And being attracted to a man was just too at odds with what he knew of himself, at least what he thought he knew.

.. ..

During lunch the next day John stared at Sherlock probably a little too much. He kept trying to see if the sight of his flat mate caused any of those sparks he felt when they touched. Of course it didn't help that Sherlock probably figured out what he was doing so he kept distracting John, making him laugh by 'deducing' everyone in the restaurant with ridiculous claims.

.. ..

Adding to his inability to think it through, that night while curled up against him, Sherlock held his hand while their watched a movie. It was causing him very conflicting emotions. His body was enjoying the hell out of Sherlock tracing his finger along the back of his hand but his mind didn't couldn't get past the phrase 'I'm not gay'.

And oh bloody hell his confusion went through the roof when Sherlock reached up and started caressing his neck. John closed his eyes trying to shut down his mind and just enjoy it.

Then he felt Sherlock's lips against his own and without thinking he kissed back. When their lips parted, John had no thoughts at all as their tongues met. Long, delicate fingers started running through his hair. As their tongues explored the only thing he understood was how incredibly good it felt. Caressing the back of Sherlock's head he was completely lost in the moment.

Sherlock broke the kiss and bit John's lower lip seductively through his ragged breathe. As those sweet lips trailed down his chin to his neck John was so incredibly turned on he started moaning.

"Oh..god."

And unfortunately right then his mind caught up. He was making out with his best mate. It was too much to handle all at once.

Releasing his grip from Sherlock's hair and gasping, he whispered "Sherlock...please...stop…"

Still breathing heavy Sherlock put his head back on John's shoulder and just held him.

_Fuck that was intense. _

He needed to calm down as he was on the verge of freaking out. And calming down wasn't going to be possible being so turned on sitting next to him. He abruptly excused himself to go to bed.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."

And he felt like a complete arse when he turned to look back and saw Sherlock had tucked his legs in close to his chest, his head resting on his knees, not looking at him. He could only hope Sherlock meant it when he said he would give John patience to work through this.

.. ..

Not long after he had gone to his room, being unable to sleep yet again, he heard Sherlock talking. He quietly opened the door and could hear Sherlock arguing with someone. It was one sided so he was probably on his phone.

"I'm not having this conversation with you again."

"I don't care what your concerns are."

"Then talk to me now."

"What difference does that make?"

"Fine." He growled.

Then he heard Sherlock walk down the stairs and leave the flat.

John went to the window and saw Sherlock get into a black car. It looked like one of Mycroft's.

_What the fucking hell? Not this crazy shite again.  
><em>

Trying to process all of this, John's was tempted to just go to a pub and numb his mind, it was too overwhelming._  
><em>

_.. .._

Just like the last time Mycroft called and Sherlock left the house, he wasn't home that next morning but at least he met John for lunch.

Lunch was not as fun as the day before, no doubt about that. Sherlock stared at him intently not saying much. When it was almost time for John to head back to surgery he finally said, "John, I need to ask you something."

"Sure. Of course."

"Is it the attention you like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you _just_ attracted to the attention I give you?" He didn't look angry, just very serious.

"What? No, I..." Pausing, he realized he really didn't know the answer to that question, it had never occurred to him.

"I don't think so...I...um...need to think about it I guess."

"Hmm...Okay."

"I..."

Sherlock gave him a smile placing his hand on John's and as always made things more difficult.

"You need to get back to work."

.. ..

John returned to his office but after about five minute his mind basically said '_fuck it_' so he left early and went home. When he got to their flat Sherlock wasn't there. John went to his room and paced for the rest of the day.

Was it just the attention? Sherlock had normally overlooked him before all this started. Was he just captivated by the attention from the brilliant detective?

He knew he cared for him and on more than one occasion he had been willing to die for him. The idea of Sherlock focusing so much on him was delightful and had made it easier to deal with all the bizarre behavior but he couldn't imagine that was all he wanted from Sherlock.

As he continued to think and pace for far too long he replayed the events of the last six weeks. After a while two specific things stood out that made it clear it was more than just Sherlock's attention he craved.

First was the previous week when things had gone back to unpleasantly normal, when Sherlock returned to ignoring him. He had missed the attention yes but it was more than that. He missed the closeness that had developed between them. Before all this he had thought of Sherlock as his best mate but after it had become something more.

And when he had wanted go back to all the weirdness and confusion it wasn't for the attention but because he missed what they were becoming to each other. Even without knowing where it would lead he wanted whatever it was.

And the other important moment was when he had heard Sherlock crying.

He had been around other people he cared about when they had broken down but he had never felt his heart ache so much at the thought of someone he cared about hurting. And as he thought about that moment his heart started to burn again. It became obvious now what he felt.

It wasn't the attention, he more than cared. He needed Sherlock. Needed to be a part of his life. To be around him all the time, to share everything with him.

He needed Sherlock more than anyone he had ever met. He didn't know if it was love but it was his 'something more'.

But god damn it, he still didn't know how to deal with the physical side of all of this. He didn't know if he would ever see Sherlock that way. If he could ever be comfortable with the idea of being intimate with a man, with Sherlock.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

When they eventually woke up Sherlock suggested breakfast. John got out of bed and started to put on his pajamas but Sherlock gave him an exaggerated frown.

"Oh come on, I don't want to walk around the flat naked while you work."

He made it an extra big frown.

John continued to protest. "But it's cold."

Sherlock pulled the blanket off the bed and tossed it to him, smiling like a fool now.

"You're a nutter." John grabbed at the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

Sherlock worked on the case for as long as it took John to eat breakfast and settle down to watch the morning news. Lying on the couch in just the damn blanket he noticed Sherlock staring.

About 30 seconds later Sherlock joined him on the couch sliding behind him resting his head against John's side.

When a hand slipped under the blanket and started rubbing his stomach John stopped watching the news. Sherlock gazed up at him with beautiful, doey eyes. John was loving every second of Sherlock being in quiet but affectionate mood.

But the queit was interputed when Sherlock's phone rang. He didn't move though.

"Not going to answer it?"

"It's Lestrade."

"He's going to mad...even more so that is."

"Mmm." The hand on his stomach was moving down slowly.

"You're not going to work on the case?"

"I will when I don't have something better to do."

John smiled, looking into those sweet eyes. "And what better things are there to do?"

Sherlock didn't answer but his fingers were teasing, moving down past his waist.

"Do you want to take this to the bedroom?"

Sherlock chuckled, "It doesn't always have to lead to sex John."

"Well if you keep doing that it will."

Sherlock's hand paused just below John's waist then moved back up to his stomach.

With a sly grin. "Hmm you're right. Maybe we should take a little break."

"A break?"

"I wouldn't want you to think that's all I want from you'

John put his hand on top of Sherlock's and started moving it back down.

"Yes…._we_ wouldn't want me to think that."

* * *

><p><strong>Week 7 is broken up into two parts because of the length. Part two will be next.<strong>


	11. Week 7 Part 2

**Week 7 Part 2.**

John woke up the next morning to an empty flat. He had fallen asleep early the day before and never heard if Sherlock had returned home. Hopefully Sherlock was just giving him time to think. He really, really hoped that was all but couldn't help being worried that it might be something else.

And by the time he was ready to leave for work he had worried himself into a nervous fit. He called in with an excuse and decided to wait for Sherlock to come home.

John had told him that he would never again say they _needed_ to talk but he wanted to give him the answer to that question from yesterday and possibly get Sherlock to open up a little. Not needing to talk but asking if they could. He kept trying to plan out what to say so that he didn't make Sherlock uncomfortable but everything sounded like it would come out wrong.

Waiting for Sherlock to return home or to text him about lunch was causing John's anxiety to increase rapidly. When his phone finally signaled that it had a text he was so tense that the vibration in his back pocket made him jump.

_Where would you like to meet for lunch?_

_-the flat?_

_Ok. When?_

_-now?_

_You're not at work?_

_-no._

There was a long delay before the next text appeared.

_Why?_

_-waiting for you to come home _

He didn't reply for so long that John got concerned Sherlock wasn't going to send one. After an agonizing few minutes he got a response.

_I'm on my way_

.. ..

John was sitting in his usual spot on the couch when Sherlock returned, trying really hard not to show his stress. Sherlock didn't enter the room. Standing in the doorway he appeared to be studying John before committing to any actions. Then he turned abruptly and went into his room, closing the door.

'_Fuck, that didn't go very well.' _

After a few minutes John was just about leave for his own room when Sherlock reappeared wearing his comfortable clothes; pants, t-shirt and robe.

With a hesitant smile he joined John on the couch and got in _his_ usual spot, resting up against him. This only made John more nervous. Sherlock seemed so relaxed that John didn't want ruin his good mood and make him flee the room.

Signing, John decided to try. "Sherlock, can we talk for a while today?"

The lack of response wasn't a good sign.

"We don't have to, it's fine. But it would be...nice...if we could, you know...talk a little."

Damn the silent was torture. One last attempt and he was going to drop it. His nerves were stretched too thin.

"So maybe we could for a bit?...You don't have to say anything you don't want to and if you get uncomfortable we can stop."

When Sherlock moved away John swore at himself. He had pushed too much and Sherlock was going to walk out.

Instead of leaving Sherlock repositioned himself. Leaning back on the armrest he was fully up on the couch facing John. Tucking his legs up so that his bare feet were very near but not touching John's leg.

His solemn expression as he stared made John think this had been a very bad idea. Then his lips curled up into a smirk and he said, "Those terms are acceptable." And when John looked confused he started laughing.

John didn't know if he should hit him or laugh with him. The bastard had seen how nervous he was and had been toying with him. He settled for some swearing.

"Fucking hell Sherlock. That's not funny."

Sherlock started wiggling his toes against John's leg and smiled at him. "What do you want to talk about?"

John was momentarily stunned by Sherlock being so agreeable to talk considering a few days ago just the idea of a discussion had distressed him. And it wasn't just agreeable he was downright playful. What had gotten into him.

He might as well go for it then. And John tried to prepare himself for a bunch of 'mmm's and 'why?'s.

"It's not _just_ the attention I like."

"Ok."

"I..."

Sherlock interrupted him and repeated "Ok."

John hadn't prepared for that. A simple word to sum up that he understood completely and was perfectly fine with John's answer.

The temptation to smack Sherlock returned but this time he did laugh. He got it now. In those few minutes before he had gone to change clothes Sherlock had figured out what John had wanted to say, what John had realized about his feelings for Sherlock and saw no need to discuss it further.

Well that solved that. But maybe he could keep going. With Sherlock's good mood maybe he could to get some answers to his own questions but he would have try not to make him uncomfortable.

"Why do you like watching me so much?"

"I thought that was apparent. As I already said, you're intriguing."

"Then explain how I'm intriguing. You never answered me the first time I asked."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a bit. John wondered if he was already pushing too much or if Sherlock was deciding how to answer.

With sincerity he finally said "Because no matter how much I think I understand you, you continue to surprise me."

"I surprise _you_?"

"Yes."

John faltered. It was so incredibly flattering that he could surprise the genius detective he didn't know what to say to that.

Then Sherlock did that thing he had gotten so good at for when John doesn't know what to say. Putting his hand on John's knee he said "Let's get some lunch." And he got up went into the kitchen.

It took John a few minutes before he followed him still a little stunned, flattered and thinking about that Sherlock's hand on his knee.

.. ..

While John ate and Sherlock stared at him with a sweet grin John composed himself enough to try for some more answers.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"What brought all this on? What happened that made you want to...that made you decide to…"

Sherlock touched John's hand. "You're toast is getting cold"

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Oh my god you know what."

He could see Sherlock trying not to laugh. "Just tell me what made you want me, you twit."

Sherlock faked a serious expression. It looked almost ridiculous.

"You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Someday, just not now."

"Why the hell not?"

Instead of answering he started eating his untouched lunch, still watching him.

John surprised himself at how well he was understanding his bizarre flat mate. Sherlock enjoyed watching John's reactions so much that he was doing all this on purpose. And though it might not _just_ be the attention he liked, John enjoyed it immensely.

.. ..

Throughout the afternoon John asked and Sherlock sometimes answered a number of questions until later that evening when John asked one that led to a turning point in their relationship. Plus the added bonus of giving John a good example of how he can surprise Sherlock.

They were back on the couch. Sherlock was leaning on his shoulder while tracing circles on John's hand while John was running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"So what's going on with you and Mycroft?"

"Pardon?"

"The phone calls, those times you went out to meet with him?"

The finger stopped moving on his hand and he felt Sherlock's body stiffen. Damn it, John had just given away that he knew of their late night meeting a few nights ago.

"I...I thought it might be about some case."

Sherlock sat back and had that look again. The 'I want to run and hide in my bedroom' look.

John immediately regretted mentioning Mycroft. Having gotten so wrapped up in Sherlock being comfortable he had forgotten how fragile he still was when faced with something he didn't want to talk about. John was going to drop it but saw that it might be too late when Sherlock abruptly got up from the couch.

John started to ask him to stay, to say that it wasn't important, when he saw that instead of walking to his room Sherlock went to one of the bookshelves. Pulling out two of John's books he grabbed the pack of cigarettes that John had hidden and came back to sit up on the couch. They were now sitting up on opposite sides facing each other.

Normally John would have been annoyed that Sherlock was throwing away two months of being cigarette free or just laughed at himself at how pathetic his hiding spot had been but neither of those things happened.

Sherlock had lit a cigarette and taken long deep drag. To avoid blowing the smoke at John he turned his head far back and exhaled slowly.

When he turned back to take another hit he froze with the cigarette inches from his lips. Sherlock had simply got a cigarette to stay calm when the question of Mycroft had come up but the effect was profound. It just barely registered at the back of John's mind that his reaction had surprised Sherlock but that was overshadowed by what was at the front of his mind

It might have been the combination of it all that caused his reaction but it added up to one simple thought.

A combination of Sherlock's thin robe and t-shirt, his long legs pulled up close. Lips pursed as he took the long drag with his eyes closed. The way his delicate fingers held the cigarette as he inhaled deeply. His neck stretching, muscles taut when he turned his head. The way his mouth parted when he slowly exhaled. And damn, when he licked his lips as he turned back to John with a slight intoxicated look as the nicotine hit his system.

One simple thought. Sherlock looked amazingly sexy.

For the first time John was wildly turned on by his flat mate without any physical contact.

John's eyes were huge, he was breathing fast and his mouth had fallen open while he just stared in awe, which obviously surprised Sherlock.

And Sherlock stared back in amazement. Then a fiery lust washed over him and he bit his lower lip making John moan.

"Oh...my god."

Sherlock mashed out the cigarette quickly and moved forward. Not touching John in any way Sherlock leaning over him supporting himself with a hand on the top of the couch and one to the side of him.

Inches from John's face he was breathing deep. His eyes shined with desire which turned John on even more. And Sherlock seemed to be drinking it up. The more Sherlock looked temptingly wanton above him the more aroused John became which made Sherlock even wilder.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deep as if he was savoring John's hunger for him then moved his lips so close to John's ear he could feel Sherlock's heated breath.

They were still not touching and John had never been more turned on.

Sherlock purred into his ear, "Intriguing," and then nipped his earlobe.

"Oh my...God...Sherlock"

Then all hell broke loose.

Sherlock kissed him hard. John grabbed the back of Sherlock's head trying to crush their lips together and Sherlock's body fell onto him as he wrapped his arms around John.

The feeling of their bodies together made the kiss desperate. Their mouths opened and tongues sought each other with intensity. They both were moaning as lips and tongues couldn't get enough. It was the most erotic kiss John had ever experienced.

Sherlock's hand snaked down his back. When it reached his waist Sherlock pulled John's shirt out from his jeans and slid a hand up onto his skin. His fingers running across John's flesh was like kindle to a flame, his hips canted up against Sherlock causing them both to groan.

The grip in Sherlock's hair tighten as John tried to force their mouths even closer. His other hand gripped Sherlock's hip as both their bodies were writhing and grinding against each other.

Sherlock ran his hand across to John's chest causing him to arch back into the couch.

It was all so intensely hot. John's mind was overrun with sensations until Sherlock's hand moved down to his waist. The need for Sherlock to move his hand lower was overwhelming but it was too much, too fast. Though his body was ready to completely let go a part of his mind tried to claw its way to the surface.

He pulled back from Sherlock's lips. Between heavy, ragged breathing he tried to speak. "Sherlock…." He didn't want this to stop but was so afraid of freaking out. "I…please…" Sherlock slid his hand from John's waist and dropped his forehead onto John's cheek.

They were both out of breath. John was still having trouble forming words. "need...to...slow down"

"Shhh."

Sherlock lightly kissed him then slid down off the couch to sit on the floor and rested his head on John's leg.

John was lightheaded and hating himself. He felt like an arse. As they both got themselves under some control John wanted to say how sorry he was.

Sherlock quietly spoke, "Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't be sorry."

"But I am."

Sherlock reached up taking John's hand and held it against his face.

"It's fine, John."

"It's not fine."

He kisses his hand softly, "Yes it is."

John stretched out and turned on his side. Running his fingers through Sherlock's hair while he stayed sitting on the floor holding John's hand against his face.

They didn't talk for a long time until Sherlock reminded John that he should probably go to sleep soon.

.. ..

He got to his room and after about an hour of not even trying to sleep John went back downstairs to see if Sherlock was still up. There was no plan. He wasn't going to try to talk or try to work out his feelings. He just didn't want to be alone.

Sherlock was in his bedroom. The door was ajar and the light was on. John wasn't sure what to do.

Sherlock must have heard him and called out. "John, is everything ok?"

"I…." He opened the door but didn't enter the room.

Sherlock was lying on top of his bed with a journal on his lap. "We can talk more if it will help."

"In here?"

"Or out there. Whichever you prefer." His smile was so kind that John felt that twinge in his chest coupled with quilt.

Walking into Sherlock's room he sat down at the end of the bed. A few minutes passed and John said, "Tell me about what you're reading?"

And so he did.

As Sherlock talked about a bunch of scientific things that were meaningless to him, he eventually laid down on his side. A few minutes later Sherlock stopped talking and moved closer. Resting his head on John's back and wrapping an arm around his chest, John pulled him closer and drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>It was a weird feeling waking up in his flat mate's bed with fingers running through his hair but it wasn't unpleasant.<p>

"Good morning." He didn't know what else to say.

Sherlock kissed his neck. "You need to get ready for work."

.. ..

John lasted about two hours before giving up and leaving work early. He was too distracted to concentrate on his patients. He hoped Sherlock would be at the flat and if not he was going to call him. Waiting for a text was not an option at this point.

But when he got home not only was Sherlock there but John could hear him talking to someone. The voices went quiet as he made it way up the stairs.

The last person he expected to see was sitting in the recliner.

"Hello Mycroft."

"Ah. Hello John."

Sitting on the couch Sherlock was a cross between annoyed at this brother's presence and surprised that John was home so early. John sat down next him.

Mycroft was sitting in the recliner, legs crossed, appearing as smug as ever. "So, how are you then John?"

"I'm fine."

Sherlock glanced over at John then returned his focus back to Mycroft.

"That's good." Mycroft wasn't looking at John when he spoke. He attention was on Sherlock.

John looked back and forth between them. There was something unpleasant going with them, more than their normal animosity.

"And how are you Mycroft?"

"Oh very well John. Thank you."

John noticed one of Sherlock's hands was clenched into a very tight fist. His knuckles were white. His brother never made him so upset that he let it show. What the hell was going on.

"So John, Sherlock and I were just discussing your recent..."

"Mycroft!"

Sherlock snapped so loud John flinched. His eyes burning with anger.

At this point, as John once tried to explain to Sherlock, time seemed to slow. Of course Sherlock said he was just romanticizing the moment as time slowing down was clearly not possible but that's what it felt like as all pieces fell into place.

As Sherlock glared icy daggers at his brother, John saw that Mycroft was now grinning at him.

What the sodding shite was happening...then the first piece fell. Fucking hell Mycroft knew. He knew about Sherlock and him. He knew how difficult it was for Sherlock and the complete twat was goading Sherlock. Teasing him. Purposely doing it in front of John to make it all that much worse.

But why? Was he trying to make Sherlock suffer for caring. To make John suffer for being the reason his brother cared. Is that what he had been doing all this time with those phone calls and meetings? He remembered what Sherlock had said to Mycroft while on the phone the other day. _"I don't care what you're concerns are."  
><em>

That fucking bastard. John almost couldn't bare it. His poor Sherlock had not only been dealing with all the crap that John had been giving him but his own brother was also making him hurt, suffer.

And for the second time John's heart broke when he thought about how much Sherlock had been coping with. And yet last night after more of John's crap he had invited John to talk to make _him_ feel better never once asking for comfort in return.

Then all the rest of the pieces fell and John finally saw the complete picture. Not his understanding of Sherlock but everything that made him 'his Sherlock'.

From that first night taking John on a chase through the streets of London making him forget all about his limp to sending 40 plus text messages in one day to get his attention.

From the deep chuckle he made when John complained about being called an idiot to impressing him by solving cases so fast it made all of Scotland Yard look like a knitting club.

From rolling his eyes with a hint of a grin when John sighed the first time he came home to find Sherlock walking around the flat in just his sheet to playing their 'find the riding crop game' that gave them so much amusement.

From not understanding why John would have a problem with a jar full of fingers in their fridge to knowing just how to distract John when he was having troubling figuring out what to say.

From the obsessive need to wear gloves when he went out just incase he had to shake someone's hand but removing them when he held John's hand in the cab to his tender touch that sent a thrill throughout John's entire body.

From not having a clue on how to deal with caring so much that it was causing him pain right at this moment to the patience and understanding he gave John while he tried to figure out his own feelings for Sherlock.

His beautiful friend, his brilliant detective, his socially inept colleague, his sexy as hell flat mate, his perfect in all his flaws Sherlock.

And there it was. It didn't matter that he was John 'I'm not gay' Watson.

He was completely in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Time returned to normal and all he wanted to do now was permanently make things right.

Ignoring that Mycroft was still there John reached over and put his hand on top Sherlock's balled up fist. John lifted it to his lips and placed a loving kiss on the back of his hand.

Sherlock turned to look at John, his anger was replaced by shock. And it only took a moment for shock to be replaced by the most wonderful smile.

"John..." He seemed at a loss for words.

Another kiss and John smiled back. "Intriguing?"

With wide watery eyes, his lip slightly trembling, Sherlock simply said. "Very."

There was silence between them as at long last 'something more' was loud and clear.

They didn't pay attention to Mycroft when he stood up and said "Well I see things are _better_ than fine." Both missed the pleased look on his face as he left and a few weeks later when John finally learned of how Mycroft had manipulated both of them to help get their relationship on track John didn't thank him because, well he really can be a dick.

John leaned over and for the first time he made the first move by kissing Sherlock.

And very quickly they were all mouths, lips and hands. They eventually worked their way to Sherlock's, soon to be _their_ bedroom, and spent the last day of those seven confusing weeks knowing they both wanted the same thing.

And over the next week as they explored and experienced all of each other, Sherlock was ever so patient and John didn't freak out. Completely at ease, no more confusion, no more denial. John didn't care that he was sharing a bed with another man. That he was dating his best mate. Or that he would from now on refer to Sherlock as his lover.

* * *

><p><strong>One more chapter is coming to wrap it all up and it's always better to end with some additional smutty fun. <strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Just a little ending chapter to wrap things up and some smut fun, because why not. **

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue – of sorts…<strong>

When John's denial had finally lost the battle there was nothing holding him back. It did take John a little time to get over the strangeness of getting off with a man but Sherlock had been wonderfully patient.

With bits of clothing slowly being removed they had eventually worked their way to Sherlock's room and barely ventured out for the next few days. Mostly just for food and showers. Plus that one time when Sherlock ran around the flat bare ass naked trying to find one of their phones so John could call off work for the rest of the week.

When they tired of the bedroom or more specifically the bed the rest of the flat was the worst for it. By the end of the week the shower curtain was completely torn off, Sherlock's experiment was scattered across the kitchen floor, the coffee table was broken, and they both agreed they needed a bigger couch.

Seven weeks of confusion ended with their newest discovery. They both loved to shag all the damn time.

* * *

><p><strong>Present.<strong>

"Maybe we should take a little break."

"A break?"

"I wouldn't want you to think that's all I want from you'

John put his hand on top of Sherlock's and started moving it back down.

"Yes….we wouldn't want me to think that."

"Definitely a break." And Sherlock's fingers reached for John's cock, lightly teasing.

John turned over to lie on his back and Sherlock pulled the blanket off the couch. Resting his head on John's chest, Sherlock look up at him, showing his appreciation that John was so comfortable lying naked next to him while he was still in his pajamas.

His hips angling up as Sherlock wrapped his hand around his cock, John played his fingers through his partner's hair. "Mmm, so no sex then?"

Sherlock lazily stroked his cock, his soft lips placing kisses on his belly.

"Correct."

To emphases just how not serious he was, Sherlock started grinding his own erection against John's leg. He was grinning up at John, being in one of his playful moods.

Tugging at Sherlock's t-shirt he lifted up so John could pull it off. Skin against skin, John sighed at how good it felt.

"So we're taking a break then?"

"Mmm yes." Sherlock ground into himharder, gripped his cock tighter and ran his tongue up his chest, biting his nipple gently.

"Oh..god…" A shudder ran through him. "No more teasing, move."

Sherlock sat up and chuckled. John had no problems with playful, jumping up he ran off to the bedroom to get the lube, pausing to watch Sherlock remove his pants.

And he paused again on his way back, dropped the bottle on the floor as he mouth fell open. "Fucking hell!"

Sherlock was kneeling down on the floor with his arms and head on the couch, his beautiful bare arse jutting up towards John.

When John didn't move for a minute taking in the sight, Sherlock actually wiggled his bum. John didn't think he would ever figure out how this man can be both so incredibly erotic and a giant git at the same time.

John dropped to the floor and crawled up to his lover's arse and Sherlock twitched when John's hands ran up his thighs.

"You are so fucking sexy."

"Mmm." His face was buried in the couch cushion. His wiggled his bum again and John gave it a playful slap. Letting out little yelp Sherlock started laughing.

His partner isn't the only one that can change the mood from laughing fits. Catching Sherlock off guard, John leaned close and ran his tongue down his partner's back between his arse.

Sherlock arched up, "Oh…god…John." Working his tongue over Sherlock's entrance as his hips rocked back and forth, the giggling stopped. It was moans and gasps when every now and then John prodded with his tongue. When Sherlock was a writhing mess John finally relented.

Sitting up on his knees, John grabbed the fallen bottle of lube and applied some to his cock. Hands on Sherlock's hip he eased himself in, groaning as he sank into the tightness his lover's body. Slow and easy until his hips were against Sherlock arse.

Giving his love a moment he paused, but Sherlock wasn't feeling patient. Pressing his arse back into John, he clenched his muscles.

"Fuck...Sherlock..." Digging his nails into those sharp hips, John slid almost complete out and thrust back in, grinding against Sherlock's arse.

Muffled into the couch cushion Sherlock was keening "Oh…yes...Oh..god"

John leaned down and kissed Sherlock's back, moving his cock in and out at a slow place, enjoying the feeling of being inside his partner.

Sherlock never talked dirty, and very rarely says anything besides "oh god', 'john', sometimes 'please' and every so often a 'fuck' when their were going at it, so when Sherlock moaned into the couch "Harder...fuck me harder ..." John almost came.

Moaning into Sherlock's back, he had to wait before he could move. Then he leaned back up and gripped tighter onto Sherlock hips and gave his love just what he wanted. Thrusting into him hard and fast, he could hear Sherlock's muffled cries and he hips frantically working into John's thrusts.

"Fuck...Oh..John...Oh...God...yes"

Sherlock was relentlessly clenching his muscles around John's cock and it didn't take long before he had to slow down again.

He wanted to make this last but Sherlock wasn't going to make that possible.

Swiveling his arse Sherlock growl "John…harder…oh god…John…fuck my arse."

"Sherlock...oh my..god" John lost any hope of taking his time. John shoved his cock deep and hard, pumping in and out of his partner's arse. Sherlock reached down to his own erection and began stroking himself.

"Yes…John...oh god"

"Fuck...ahhh…Sherlock…" John collapsed forward onto Sherlock as he came, hips still working as he pumped his orgasm into his lover.

John's legs were shaking but he didn't move. Sherlock body was arching up against John's as he stroked himself to his own orgasm. Loud muffled groans, his body shuddered as came.

When Sherlock stopped convulsing John rolled over and onto the floor, his legs still shaking. Sherlock slid down next John and sprawled across of him.

Kissing his neck Sherlock asked, "So tomorrow we take a break?"

"Not on your life."

* * *

><p><em>'If someone would have told him that he would be in a romantic relationship with his best mate because he had forgotten to do the laundry he wouldn't have believed it.''<em>

"Please tell me you're not putting that on your blog." Sherlock was leaning over his shoulder as John worked on his laptop.

"It's not for the blog."

"Then why are you typing it?"

"It's for me."

"Why?"

John didn't answer, instead he looked over at him, letting Sherlock figure it out on his own.

Rolling his eyes Sherlock said, "So now you've got a diary? And you call me bizarre." Then adding a smirk, "I need to step up my observations of you."

Sherlock sat down and watched him.

After typing a little more John paused. "And you're going to do it right now?"

"No, I'm deciding on how to best make a request, without you asking endless questions."

John laughed and closed his laptop, this should be good.

"Just ask. I'll try to not annoy you with too many questions."

"It's not that they would annoy me, it's that the less you know the better."

"And that was completely not reassuring. Just ask."

"I want to perform an experiment on you."

"What?...why?...what?..."

Sherlock gave him a look.

"You can't expect me to not ask those questions!"

Sherlock knew just the right buttons to push. "If you're not up to it that's fine."

"I..I didn't say that but come on, you have to give me something."

"I'm sure you will enjoy it, if that eases your mind."

"No that doesn't." But it did.

And his perfect Sherlock just smiled at him.

John smiled back, "Am I going to regret this?"

"Do you ever?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed this. And a thank you for all the nice reviews, they really made this more fun to write.<br>**


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